you can hear the city talking like it doesn't care.

[soldieronwards]

Who| Bucky Barnes and everyone else
What| An arrival and a lot of frustration.
Where| Floor 7 of the Training Center, the city circle, and the Rooftop.
When| Just about now.
Warnings/Notes| Nothing other than some references to violence.

His head is still pounding like it's out to get him.

It's his own fault. He wouldn't stop fighting the people who came to take him away from the gymnasium of the Training Center after his scoring. It wasn't that he had anything against them--it was just that he could see the Gamemakers right in front of him behind the force field, he could identify every place on their bodies he'd have to strike to take them down for good, and he didn't know when he'd get that opportunity again. He had to find a way to turn off the force field and get at them, right now. It shouldn't have been difficult, but his arm wasn't producing the EMP it usually could, and he couldn't find any other way of turning that damned force field off, and people kept coming at him to try to pull him away. In the end, he didn't want to actually kill those people--he figured they might be pawns as much as he was--so he couldn't fight all out, and they overpowered him. When he woke up, his head ached like an earthquake had hit it.

Bucky doesn't know if they deliberately hit him with something that would hurt afterwards or if it's an unhappy coincidence, but really, it's his own fault either way. It doesn't matter. He needs information, now.

[PROMPT ONE] He takes a few minutes to explore District 7's residential floor before leaving. It's good to know the weaknesses and strengths of where he's being kept--a prison just like the worst ones he's been in even if it's rolling in the lap of luxury. He grimaces at the secure windows, examines his surroundings for surveillance devices, growing more and more bitter all the while. By the time he finally stalks out of there--

[PROMPT TWO] --he might as well have a stormcloud over him, but somehow, when he walks out of the Central Commons into the Capitol proper, it's vanished, submerged into the same place he's hiding his headache. He seems practically relaxed as he wanders through the city circle and studies the Presidential Mansion nearby, his face all innocent appreciation. He's casing it out for weaknesses, of course, and finding none. But he keeps his frustration safely hidden.

[PROMPT THREE] He keeps his frustration safely hidden until he finally makes his way back into the Training Center, steps into the elevator, and punches buttons in exasperation without thinking about where he wants to go. He winds up on the Roof, staring at the beautiful garden around him; he walks through it in a near-daze, his head still aching. And finally, he stops in front of a statue and, without thinking once more, lashes out and punches it, left-handed.

The statue doesn't so much as chip, much less crack.

Comments

3!

[silberfuchs]

The roof seems to be the only safe place to lurk around when the weight of company is too much for Albert. After he'd made sure the Capitol knew exactly what he thought of them - publicly, on the network - the German has been less and less social. He tells himself it's in an effort to protect anyone the Capitol might associate with him and drag off for leverage, but really he just doesn't know what else to do and that sot of frustration is always something he's dealt with alone.

The clang of metal on stone grabs his attention and he whips his head around to find the source of the noise, white eyes narrowed and cautious and body squared up to defend himself. He scans the rooftop, categorizing cover and potential threats, then blinks as he catches sight of the brunette down the rooftop from him caught in the familiar pose of someone who's decided to take out monumental frustration on an inanimate object.

He can relate.

It takes Albert a moment to decide to speak, but considering he doesn't recognize the man, he's likely a new tribute and while Albert had come up here for a little air and privacy, he can't ignore someone so obviously upset. He's been there. He's still there.

"The punching bags in the training area have somewhat better give, if you haven't been down there yet."

[soldieronwards]

It takes a moment for Bucky to speak, and when he does, his voice is still laced with frustration. "Oh, I've been down there. They had to score me, right? After that, I don't really feel like going back for a while."

Still, he turns away from the unharmed statue to look over the other man approaching him. By the time he does that, his expression is gathered back into a tense mask of almost-calm.

[silberfuchs]

"Right, the scoring. I forgot about that." He shrugs. "It means very little, frankly."

The man's expression is one Albert's not unused to seeing. Guarded, but not unnaturally, as if he's had a lot of practice at being guarded and it's worked its way into his demeanor as a kind of default state of at ease. No soldier who's seen combat is ever truly at ease. He knows he isn't, especially not after his outburst on the network.

He doesn't offer a handshake, nor does he offer any other form of touch as a greeting, instead inclining his head politely. "Albert Heinrich. District 3."

[soldieronwards]

If the lack of offered handshake fazes Bucky, he doesn't show it. He just says, "Bucky Barnes. They put me in District 7, for whatever it's worth."

He hesitates, then adds, "I'm not so sure the scoring is meaningless. Seems like it'd paint a target on the backs of the lowest and highest scorers."

[silberfuchs]

"Assuming anyone actually puts their heart into it, and what a person is capable of is quite different when faced with actual life or death as opposed to performing for a group of arrogant Schweinhund." He might be a little bitter. Or a lot bitter.

"I suppose I'd have to concede that it does give a decent baseline for what we're up against in the arena." Not that he considers the other tributes who he's really against. It's the institution they should be fighting.

[soldieronwards]

"Assuming the other tributes are all we're up against," Bucky reminds him. "The Gamemakers throw things at us too, don't they? It can't ever be that simple."

He sighs. "Still, seems like they have ways of getting a good idea what we're really capable of." He's frowning a little.

[silberfuchs]

"They do, but the scoring doesn't take everything into account. You just display one chosen skill. People are rarely good at only one single thing. It takes some time, multiple arenas, to tell what individuals are really suited for what things." Albert pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Still, it's better to band together against the arena itself, if you can convince people to ally with you. Personally I have no desire to fight other tributes. If you ask me, we're all on the same side." It's just prudent to know what you might have to defend against if someone doesn't share that sentiment.

[soldieronwards]

"I agree. We're all on the same side, and the Gamemakers are on the other side."

But then there's a heavy silence for a moment from Bucky; he looks away, off to the side, thinking. When he speaks again, it's quiet and flat. "But how many arenas have they successfully run, forcing nearly everyone to kill each other?"

[silberfuchs]

"Many. Over eighty now, I think." His tone matches Bucky's and rings with sympathy; they're both caught in that cycle now. "Nine or so with off-world tributes though. We're a relatively new phenomenon and perhaps that may prove... different."

He has to keep that hope, that they're just 'rolling with the punches' as his mentor said, until they have their chance. He can't voice it outright that they can find their moment to overturn everything, or at least try, because there are eyes and ears everywhere, but he can hope too that Bucky understands the undercurrent of what he's saying.

[soldieronwards]

"'Different.'" He says it flatly once more, keeping his tone carefully neutral. He too knows they're being watched, being listened to, and as reason starts to return to him, he's capable of keeping that in mind. "You know, change is usually a good thing. That's what I've learned."

A brittle and fleeting smile flickers across his face and is gone.

winding down since I'm sure you're tired of intro tags after so long lol

[silberfuchs]

"Glad we're on the same page, so to speak." He shifts his posture, starting to feel a little antsy at being gone from Jet for so long. It's entirely possible the peacekeepers would wait until his back was turned to take his American fiance and punish him for Albert's sin of disobedience.

"I'll be around if you happen to have any questions. Other than that I'm not sure what else there is to say aside from good luck. We all need it." This time he offers his hand, feeling that he has a bit more of a sense of what sort of man Bucky Barnes is.

[soldieronwards]

"No kidding." For an instant, his tone goes cold again, blunt and bitter. He's aware of just how hopeless his situation is--of just how hopeless all their situations are.

But then he's smiling again, confidence on his face. "We'll get by, lucky or not."

He keeps that confident stance as Albert heads away. Only when the other man is gone does he let it drop, his shoulders slumping in desperate frustration.

It's going to be rough from here on it.